PFX family origin
by HetaHetare
Summary: Big Al used to be a strong man. Sweet Ann was a lounge singer. Oliver was a child prodigy. Events change and turn them into a family of monsters tied together by a love of song.
1. Big Al's big opportunity prt1

"Ladies and gentlemen, step up step up and watch the strong man, there is nothing and I mean nothing that Big Al cannot lift, step up step up and test his strength. He can lift you, he can lift your friend, he could lift a bus if we had one, roll up!" The cry rang out across the carnival. It was the first show of this new town. They'd set up on a large field between two hills, just a short ride away from a city. It was from the city that the crowd now gathering came, ready to see some Hercules type man.

Al had been at this job for most of his life, he'd always been tall, ever since he was a child he'd towered above most of those his age. At the present time, he stood 6'4'' in stocking feet, which made him somewhat intimidating even though he was a perfectly nice guy. But that's not what people wanted, they didn't want to see a nice guy, they wanted to see 'Big Al' the strong man. So he worked to that strength, training his body and developing his act. He supposed he could have gone far being a body builder or a fitness trainer, but he'd soon found that his passion had nothing to do with his body.

Al wanted to sing.

That night, as the regular cries went out to welcome him to the stage, he'd made up his mind. Why should he spend his life, ruining his body by lifting stupid amounts of weight each night so that the small audience would ooh and ahh and then leave to go see the bearded lady. He combed back his brown hair, already greying at the sides, and huffed. There was always that one strand of hair that didn't go back so he gave up on it. His only prized position was a skull necklace that had been gifted to him as a joke by his ex-fiancée. It might have been a joke and they might not have ended up together, but he kept it anyway and they'd build his act around that idea. He was the monster man with the muscles.

Al stepped up and looked around the stage. He strode over to the announcer and made a motion for the microphone. This was met with a frown, so he forcefully took it. It wasn't as if the small man could have stopped him. Al coughed, looking out at the expectant people. The crowd muttered, looking at each other and frowning. What was going on? Why wasn't the strong man doing what the strong man was supposed to do? "Al, don't you dare, give that back and do your goddamn act." his boss growled.

The wannabe singer took a deep breath, his nerves only just calming. He ran a hand through his hair and started to sing. The crowd stopped muttering, and for a moment it seemed almost like they were all paying attention. It wasn't that Al did not have a good voice, for a deep voiced man he could hit the high notes when he wanted, but that was not what they were there for and his accent wasn't everyone's cup of tea even when he spoke. Boo's rose up from the disappointed crowd and food was thrown (popcorn, bits of hot dog, whatever they could throw) and Al stopped his song. Flinching from the bits of food, Al retreated behind the stage, he hung his head, not even listening as the announcer tried to calm anyone. He threw the microphone down and sat on the stool that was placed behind the curtain in front of a small desk with mirror.

"What was that?!" His boss roared, storming behind the curtain, letting the red flaps of fabric soar up and then come wafting back towards the two. Al said nothing, inspecting his greys in the mirror. "Don't you ignore me, Al, I said what was that?"

"I just wanted to make a change, that's all. I get bored." He replied.

"Al, we talked about this." His boss rubbed his temples. "You're not a singer Al, you're a strong man. That's what you were made to do."

"I'm twenty-five years old and wasting my life." Al spat back, eyes narrowing. In the light, the hazel colour looked almost yellow.

"And not getting any younger. You were made to be a strong man, deal with it. This better not happen again."

Al watched his boss leave the room, probably to go smoke and balled up his fists. It took all his effort not to smash out the image in the mirror, the image of a man that would never be anything but a man who could lift things. Without announcing it, he left. Not just the tent, but out of the carnival altogether. The night was cold, but the sky was clear and beautifully lit up with stars. Al continued on, climbing the hill next to where they'd set up so he could see the bustling city below. The stars were a lot fainter both over the city and the carnival, too much light pollution.

Al sighed, he had nowhere to go except back to where he'd come from. 'What's so special about me, anyway?' he thought to himself. 'It's not as though I'm the only one with unfulfilled dreams.'

Still, he looked at the city and wondered...could he find a chance there? Maybe not, but he could at least experience some excitement, life outside of the carnival. Al grinned and set off down the left side of the hill, onto the road that would lead him down. He whistled and sang to himself as he went. The darkness didn't bother him, it was his friend, he'd often wandered around in the dark as a child. Al sang to himself, letting the night hear his voice if nobody else would.


	2. Big Al's big opportunity prt2

Al's feet were aching by the time he reached the city. He felt safer once his feet hit pavement though, who knew what kind of loony would drive along and knock him down? Al had no money on him, so didn't waste his time window shopping. What he really wanted was to take in the scenery. Music floated to him from all kinds of directions, but mostly from the public houses. A lot of them advertised singers, but he was just about ready to go back when he found one having a 'karaoke night'.

Stepping into the pub, Al's senses were assaulted by tuneless singing, cigarette smoke and boozy breath. He grinned, no matter where he went the environment didn't really seem to change except here he could happily join in the songs.

Some people gave him a passing glance, at his height Al was used to such a thing. He strode up to the DJ and asked for a list of songs, chosing one he knew and then waiting his turn.

At the end of Al's song, everyone applauded politely. Al's soul felt lifted, light and free. He left the pub and took in a deep breath of night air. Nobody to tell him to shut up here, nobody telling him he couldn't sing because his body was all he had. Now, which was was home?

That was a problem, he hadn't actually paid that much attention. Al walked back the way he'd came, when he saw the hills between two buildings he headed in that direction. Still, he managed to get himself even more lost, even losing sight of the hills. "Oh for Pete's sake..."

"Problem, sweetie?"

Al turned. There was a woman leaning against the building next to him. She was smoking, his hair in tight stiff curls that spilled down her back like spun gold. Al didn't hide how she made him smile, how his natural desires made him want to take off the dress that barely contained her heaving bosoms and run his hands over that smooth skin.

"Eyes are up here, sweetie." She smirked, dropping her cigarette butt to the floor and crushing it under one silvery high heel.

Al blushed and looked up, finding that her icy blue eyes were just as poisonously addictive to look at. Her accent was hard to place, something Scandinavian mixed with American or maybe British. "Sorry...I'm kind of lost, I'm trying to get to the carnival."

"That monkey-house that just rolled into town? Why would you want to go there." The stranger laughed.

"I work there."

"Oh, well when I said monkey-house I was just kidding..." her composure faltered slightly, although she could act like a diva, she didn't have the spirit to keep it up.

"It's fine. I'm Al, and you?" he extended his hand politely.

"Ann." The woman smiled. "Some call me Sweet Ann, Sweetie, Sweet Annie, etc...I'm a lounge singer so the nicknames come and go." she took the tall mans hand and shook it firmly. "I'm done for the night, so I can lead you to a nice road that leads you up to them hills." she cocked her thumb and pointed. Al mentally slapped himself, he had been going the right away after all.

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Al watched her start to walk, tracing the line of her dress over her body before getting his feet into gear to go after her. "So, you're a singer?"

"Yup, always wanted to be one, though maybe not the way I am now." Ann replied, feeling nice and relaxed around this man. Still she kept her guard up, you never did know. "I wanted to bring my voice to the world, but one town ain't bad and I get plenty of praise from the punters."

"I bet you have a great voice. I uh, like to sing too." Al put his hands in his pockets as they walked, soon leaving the bright lights to start walking up a pathway that was almost completely dirt and led into the smaller of the hills that the road rested on.

"You? No way." Ann snorted.

Al blushed. "Yes me. Why does everyone seem surprised by that?"

"Oh well, you don't much look like a regular singer..."

"Well neither do you, you look like you're stuck in the 1920's."

Ann laughed, playfully shoving him, he gave her a playful shove back, watching his strength. Ann tottered on her high heels and pulled a face. "How could you do that? I almost fell."

"Oh gee I'm sorry Ann I- woah!" Al was pushed mid-apology. Ann took off her heels and started to run. Al grinned and followed after her.

"I'm going to get you, don't think I won't!" Al chased her for a good five minutes before she stopped. "Gotcha." He didn't shove her, instead grasping her in a hug. Ann grinned still, laying her hands against his chest.

"Okay you win, here." She moved away, putting her heels back on but still stretching to peck at his jawbone. Al blushed and bent down for her, she pecked his cheek. "Anyway, your road is there." she pointed to where the path cut through thick brush and met the tarmac road.

"Thanks, owe you one." Al grinned, not wanting to leave her now, he wanted to stay and get to know Ann more.

"Maybe if you come back one day, you can buy me a drink somewhere." Ann hugged herself against the cold.

"Sure..." Al stepped towards the road, and then turned, not seeing the approaching headlights. "Hey, take this." he stopped, just on the road, and took off his jacket, holding it out to her. Ann moved towards him and took it.

"Thank yo-AL LOOK OUT!" Ann dropped the jacket and grabbed the back of his pants to pull him out of the way of the speeding truck. Al over-balanced and fell, tumbled down the small inclined surrounding the road, the very incline he'd just chased Ann up.

Ann was pulled forward, he hand pulled from his belt. One nail split painfully but she hit the ground long before she could register that. "Al!" he hadn't so much as moved from where he'd heavily landed. Ann tried to get up, her feet tangling in his jacket. She kicked it off and hurried to him. "Oh, oh my God." Ann covered her mouth, bile rising up.

Someone had dumped an old engine at the side of the road. Al had hit his head on it, and a sharp edge had torn a chunk of flesh from his forehead and cracked the grey-white skull underneath. There was so much blood...probably less than her mind was seeing, but too much. Ann saw grey webbing in his eyes, then fainted clean away.


	3. Ann, alone

Ann came back to consciousness very slowly. She swatted at something crawling along her bare arm, wondering how a fly had gotten into her room. It was then that the feeling of grass underneath her became prominent. "Al!" Ann's voice cracked, had she screamed before fainting? She couldn't remember. Ann sat up, her perfectly styled hairdo now a mess, pushed up all at one side where she'd been laying. Dirt turned the blond a rustic colour and a leaf fell from it as she sat. Ann didn't care, she didn't even care for the throbbing in his back from where she'd lain for...how long? The sun was coming up in the distant horizon, it had been a long while.

One of her breasts had fallen from the dress and support bra, she absent-mindedly pushed it back into place as she stood. Ann's legs wobbled, threatening to give in and send her tumbling back to the floor. Only one high heel was still on. She kicked it off and it landed on the dirt track, the other in the high grass. "Al?" her voice was a little stronger now as she moved forward.

Ann expected to see his body still there, his head mangled. There would probably be flies around him now, buzzing and laying their eggs in his open wound. Ann felt bile rise up in her throat and her imagination was so strong she almost did see that image. Then reality came back and she realized he was gone.

How could that be? He'd been passed out, and even if he'd come to, would he have just left her there to potentially freeze? Ann hugged herself, feeling lucky to have woken when she had. She stared at the spot a good long while, supposing in the back of her mind that she was in shock and just couldn't take in the empty space.

"Come on Sweetie Bell, let's think logically." Ann muttered to herself, yet another of her nicknames. It was Sweet Ann she liked best though, since it sounded like her country of origin. Ann pushed that distracting thought away and looked closer at the old engine that had torn and smashed Al's head.

Blood was splashed down it from where he had hit, a now almost brown stain, crimson now at the edges only as the new dawn light hit the rusted metal. In fact, some of the red could have been the rusted metal itself.

There was also a large indentation in the grass where the heavy-set tall man had laid for a long enough time that the grass had not been able to rise back up after being pressed down. She could even make out where his legs had both rested, twisted in a way that didn't much seem natural, not to mention she could only pick out one elbow.

Ann's stomach growled and a shiver coursed through her. There was no sign of him getting up, no mark of his feet, just a huge skid mark where he'd fallen. No, that wasn't right, he'd gone over all in one. The only other movement being a rebound off of the engine. Ann's head throbbed and she craved warmth. Picking up her shoes she looked back at the small squashed part.

The singer felt guilty, someone seemed to have taken him or...rescued him? She chose to believe that he'd been rescued as she climbed onto the road. Tire marks did indeed lead off from the place Al had fallen, as if whomever had picked him up had roared away at great speed. Am ambulance, she concluded.

Ann started to walk. Her inner self gnawed at her, telling her that those tires didn't look right for an ambulance, asking her to question why she too hadn't been saved. "Oh shut up." it was a long walk back for a cold and disoriented woman. Ann stopped in a bright patch of the new sun and thumbed for a ride.

Not many cars went past this road, most were people moving to pass through the city, or leaving it from the other direction. Even so, a pick-up truck stopped for her. The man behind it looked like he'd be more at home on a bike, Fu Manchu and all. Ann smiled and got in beside him. "Oh don't mind my appearance sweetie, I took quite a fall just a while ago." she beamed at him, only too aware of her messed up hair, smeared make up and wrinkled dress.

"Oh don't worry, I'll take care of you. Where ya headin'?" The trucker pulled his vehicle back onto the road and started towards the city.

"Just to yonder city sweetie, that's all." Ann lay back against the seat of the truck and took a deep breath, trying to forget all about tall strange men who lost half of their skull then disappeared.

Three days later, her picture appeared in the paper as missing.

Two days after that, her corpse was found, violated and headless.

Three days later, that corpse was reported missing.

Four days later, she was reunited with Big Al.


	4. Not quite human

Many days before Al would meet Ann again, he woke from a deep swimming blackness to the sound of something electrical buzzing. He remembered nothing, nothing except...her, the woman with the sparkling white dress, perfect blond curls and a fun personality that lit him up.

Where was she now? Al tried to move his arm, but it was held down by something stronger even than he was. He opened his eyes and his mouth dropped open. All he could see was a deep black penetrated by digital code, 1's and 0's everywhere no matter where he looked. Al's breathing caught in his throat so that he couldn't even cry out in alarm. The numbers bunched into a green grid and slowly the world came back to him, observed through new eyes with bright yellow irises.

"Hello?" Al's voice crackled and hummed a little as he worked it, his new voice box also needed working on. Looking down, he could just about see the metal table he was strapped against. With a hiss, the straps retracted. Al sat and his head swam, the net came back until he'd focused again.

A memory fluttered into his head, something to do with Ann again and then a searing pain in his head. Al reached for his head, feeling something bumping sticking out of his forehead. He scratched at it, trying to pick it off and felt only pain. Al stopped and felt along his forehead, there was a seam there, and more bumps that he assumed were the stitches that were keeping his skull closed. "What?" again, a computerised edge to his voice. Al placed a hand to his chest, still feeling his heart beat there.

So, he was alive and awake, but he felt changed. His joints didn't bend the same, his voice sounded tuned and his head. Someone had done something to his brian and then stitched it all back up.

"Big Al, that's what they called you isn't it?"

Al jumped at the strangers voices. A man of age Al could not determine was standing there, he had a grin that reminded Al of a shark. "Yes that was it and look at you, you survived, you were the first one to survive..."

"Survive what?" Al was more used to this voice of his now.

"To becoming a cyborg. You see, when I found you, you were a mess." The mad doctor (as Al thought of him) continued. "So instead of leaving you to be found and spend the rest of your life as a potato, I brought you to my lab and replaced your human brain with a robotic one - you know circuits and microchips that kind of thing. Here - I didn't think you'd survive to need this but since you did." He held out a piece of paper.

Al took it and saw a diagram there, an outline of himself. It showed how parts of him had been removed and replaced with machinery, which had been kept human but super imposed to be stronger and last forever. "But...why?"

"To bring your gift to the world. To turn you into a Vocaloid." He smiled. "That won't be done here though, another company will do that for you, and your voice will be turned into a distributable programme which would all stop working if anything bad happened to you. You will be its motherboard."

"I don't understand...you've turned me into a robot singer?" Al tried to wrap his head around it, he couldn't remember his life before so didn't miss it. He supposed he was just happy to be alive.

"A cyborg synthesised singer." The scientist explained. "Well, almost. To complete the process your permission is needed. You can even choose a fake-voice provider so that no one need ever learn how Vocaloid's are really made."

Al shivered at that, he felt like something wrong, a monster that shouldn't exist and those words only cemented it. "Will people hate what I am?"

"No no! You'll be for professionals to use, they'll love you when you're complete it's just that some people won't like how you've been made because of ethics..."

"Ethics." Al replied and looked down at the spotless grey floor."Okay, I'll become a Vocaloid...but not without her, without Ann."

"Ann? The woman you were with? I...have some sad news. Call me P, by the way." P picked up something else from one of the counters and handed it over. Al skim read the newspaper.

"Dead? She's dead? Someone cut off her..." Al touched his throat. "I'll kill him..."

"Woah there..." Al had stood, and P was a little too afraid to even attempt to push him back down.

"No, he killed her, she was so...wait, you can bring her back right?" Al turned his bright glance on P, the robotic eyes picking out every detail on this mans face.

"I've never brought someone back from the dead before, much less attached back on ahead, her whole face would have to be reconstructed and even then she may not come back to life as the Ann you knew." P fussed. "You've only retained your personality after all, that's as much as can be captured by my technology."

"Try, you have to try at least, I really won't become a Vocaloid unless she does too." Al had turned the newspaper into a crumpled mess before he'd even realized.

"Okay, I'll get my people to get her, and I'll try."


	5. PFXV1

It was two hours since Al had spoken with P and the mysterious scientist had left to go and find Ann (or her body). Al sat, having promised not to leave, and looked over the chart showing the changes that had been made to him and the changes still to be made. "Would I really have been dead by now if he hadn't helped?" Al mused out loud. Dead, or a potato. He shivered, death or worse than death. But what exactly was he now? He didn't understand even half of the words on the paper. Only that things like 'carbon nanotubes' with a key to mean that they were in most of his new muscles. "Exactly what of me is still me?" he grunted.

That was one of his biggest issues, that he was no longer really himself but a machine running off of his personality. He knew, or had been told, he still had human parts that were specially preserved to last forever. Al hung his head, the unruly strand of hair he always had dripping over his forever. He didn't push it back this time though, why bother? Was it even hair any more? A part of him also didn't believe that something so terrible had happened to Ann. She had to be still alive and is so...would she want him now?

He'd realized in his brooding that he remembered her for a reason and that reason was that he'd started to fall in love with her. How cliché was that? They had known each other only perhaps an hour, a silly short amount of time but it was true. Or maybe he only thought it was love because she was the only one he remembered from his old human life. Al folded up the chart and placed it aside, running his fingers over his arm and feeling no true pulse in his wrist. The giant of a man jumped when the door opened and something was wheeled in by P and two masked men. Something vaguely human shaped minus a had covered up with a sheet. The head, it seemed, was in an ice container on the bottom though the whole unit hummed and gave off a cold.

"Can I see her?" Al felt sick, his stomach churned and was apparently still human enough to do so.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" P asked, his eyes wide and reproachful. He didn't want to see Al's reaction - P was used to the gruesome and the gory.

"I...I guess not." Al felt his stomach heave again, just at the thought.

"Then please follow these men to another room, they'll be snacks there although you don't need to eat and your bowel movements will be very slow..." P nodded and Al did as he was told unquestioned for once.

Al spent days in limbo. He could hear the strangest of sounds coming from that room. Electric bursts, hums and whirrs and sparks, all the kinds of things you'd hear on a building site mixed with sounds that Al could not name, tools that were as futuristic as what he had become. He found quickly what P had meant by slow bowel movements. Al had eaten nervously for the first few hours that he'd left the corpse of the feisty exciting woman he remembered from his humanity.

On the third day of her being worked on, Al finally managed to empty his full stomach. Coming out of bathroom, he spotted men he'd never seen before going into the room where Ann was. "Who were they?" he asked one of those caring for him, a man called Frank. "Oh them? They're from Power FX, the company that wants to turn you and her into Vocaloid's." Frank explained. "She was awake this morning and agreed to it." "She was? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Al growled, baling his hands into fists.

"Because they thought you'd persuade her to not become a Vocaloid." Frank shrugged.

"It would have been her choice..." Al mumbled. "Does she remember me? Can I see her?"

"Later, when she's done, I promise I'll come and get you before she comes back online."

Comes back online, not 'wakes up', but _comes back online_.

Al nodded, knowing it was all he was going to get. He went back to the room he'd come to think of as his, with his couch and bright wallpaper. He sat and he waited.

On the evening of the fourth day since his body had gone missing from public knowledge, Al was led back into the room he'd first woken in. Al's eyes widened when he saw his Ann, looking younger and more perfect than ever. She was currently strapped to a vertical board, feet on the ground. Unlike Al who was in basic clothing ( a kind of white uniform of the place) she was wearing a version of the clothes Al most remembered. Her flowing white dress...but...now it looked almost like a brides dress, even down to the shiny heels. Her hair seemed longer, but that was just because the curls were looser than before, only really there at the ends. Still, beautiful.

"Ann?" Al walked towards her, only for P to hold out a hand and stop him.

"Hold on a second, she's about to finally become a Vocaloid. By tomorrow, her software will be out all over the world so don't be alarmed if she starts singing songs randomly. That will happen each time she's first made to sing an original song by anyone."

Al nodded and watched as a switch was thrown next to his love and her deep blue eyes slowly opened. Al held his breath and after a second, Ann started to speak.

_"Vocaloid - version two. Code: PFXV1 - Sweet Ann." _


	6. Do it for me sugar

Al's new heart just about stopped as his first had. Why was she speaking like that? Like nothing more than a robot. A little anger came to him and he was just about to comment on it when she spoke again.

"Al?" It was her own voice, though she sounded as though she'd sang the word than spoke it.

"Ann." he replied, going to her. They embraced, just looking to each others faces as they held each other. "

Are you a Vocaloid too?" She asked, noting his lack-of-interest clothes. Again her words were sung, though each word was more carefully controlled as she got used to this new way of speaking. Al noticed from this close up that the same stitches across his forehead were also around her neck, almost like a choker.

"No...I'm not sure whether I want to be..." Al admitted and they let each other go. Those around watched the interacts curiously, 'Sweet Ann' was the first Vocaloid for their company, not only that but the first Vocaloid for the new version two software - her working and interactions were important, they needed to know she was working correctly in both programme and body. "I mean, they've already signed me up for it, I'm just not sure I'm ready yet."

"I thought you wanted to sing...?" those around Ann noted that down, curiously both seemed to remember each other perfectly but nothing of their old lives specifically. Was it love? Probably not, probably it was just because they were each others almost last memories.

"I do, I'm just not sure I'm good enough." Al admitted, his cheeks growing hot. It wasn't just that, he was still clinging to the last of his humanity, not sure he wanted to become a _thing_ that could be used by anyone.

"I could train your voice, if that's really what you're worried about." This was Frank, who had followed in. "Though you know, you wouldn't have been chosen if they didn't think you were good enough."

"I know...thank you, I'd like your help." Al smiled at him and then down at Ann again.

"We need to do tests on her, so we'd appreciate it if you left us be for a little while." P told him, still a little unsettled at how far he had to look up to see Al's face.

Al took Ann's hand, but she smiled and him and nodded. "We'll be okay. Becoming a Vocaloid...it's a good thing, I promise you this." she went onto her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, only just managing as such.

Al nodded again, his cheeks now on fire with embarrassment and dull pleasure as he was led out. Frank grinned at him. "What?"

"You and Sweet Ann, huh?"

"What? No...no we're just friends!" Al pushed the other, sending the man flying but Frank just laughed.

"Sure buddy, you keep telling yourself that."

The staff from PowerFX were pleased by the way 'Sweet' Ann was functioning and soon allowed her to go back to Al. She stood in the doorway, watching him sit with his hands in his head. "What's with that face, sweetie?"

Al looked up and smiled, patting the couch beside him. Ann nodded and sat beside him, allowing his strong arm to go around her shoulders as she threaded her own arm around his waist. "They said that as soon as you become a Vocaloid, we can leave this place and live in a private little cottage near the coastline. I've seen pictures, it's a beautiful little place on a beautiful British coast. I think we'd be happy there. Happier there than staying in this place, we'd feel more..."

"Human." Al finished.

"Exactly and that's what you want, isn't it?"

Al took his arm away, so she too took hers away and placed both hands folded into her lap. Al turned away, almost embarrassed that he was so easy to figure out.

"It's not that bad, Al. I don't feel any less human and now people all over the world can enjoy my voice. I can't wait to see what songs they allow me to sing, original and already made, it's a wonderful prospect. I want to know I'm bringing joy to the world in a way only Vocaloid's can, by giving people the chance to create with your voice." Ann's eyes shined. Al turned, watching the flush of her cheeks and how happy she seemed.

"Okay. I'll do it, I'll become a Vocaloid...but only when I feel that I'm ready." Al smiled and they embraced again.

"That's all I needed to hear, sugar. It wouldn't be the same without you."


	7. It's one small step

Almost three years after being announced, Al was waiting outside of the place he'd taken to calling 'the point of no return room' which was really the room he'd be put under and turned into a full Vocaloid. In the years that had passed he'd had plenty of time to thing about becoming a Vocaloid and plenty of people there to explain it to him. It was Ann's undying support that had driven him finally to being ready though and even now, Ann sat with him, holding his hand as they sat on the bench in front of the room, watching the green glowing light beside the door that told them it was occupied. "Do you know who's even in there?" Al asked

Ann nodded. "I don't know everything about her, but her name is SF-A2."

"SF-...?" Al frowned at that, would his name be stripped and replaced by letters and a number? Ann's hadn't...but this new one, she had.

"Yes, SF-A2. She's a Vocaloid like us, except she's completely robotic, never been human, android from scratch." Ann explained. "Codename Miki, I think. She'll be released the same month as you. I was eavesdropping when I heard though, so don't blame me if I'm wrong." she laughed and Al couldn't help but grin and give her a polite little push.

"You're a devil."

"No sugar, I'm a monster, that theme is our thing."

Al ran a hand over the stitches on his forehead. "I can see why...I suppose I don't mind. I'm not doing this to make myself happy after all, I'm doing it to share my voice with others and make them happy - if the monster theme is interesting to them, then..." he shrugged, too nervous about what was about to happen to really think about things.

"Don't worry honeypie, it doesn't hurt." Ann gave his large hand a squeeze just as the light on the door changed and the unit containing SF-A2 codename Miki was wheeled out. Al caught a glimpse of long orange hair before she was gone.

"Where are they taking her?" Al asked.

"Probably to her company." Ann too had been taken to her company, she had gone there many times to check her software and be wired up to their main system so they could produce demos (she wasn't sure those ever got released, though when her software finally had so much music and joy had filled her head she'd wept). Being a Vocaloid was a happy time for her, even if she wished more original songs would be made for her to sing. She hoped dearly that when Al was released, the users would allow them to sing duets. After Al was turned, they'd both go to PowerFX together and make a home there - or even make a home somewhere else, they'd been given that choice so long as they still came in when asked and told no one what they were.

"Al, it's time." P smiled, motioning with one hand. Al nodded, gave his love's hand a squeeze and strode forward confidently.

A wave of pride filled Ann and went out to him as the door closed and the light turned green again. She knew he was terrified and unsure, but perhaps hearing of this full android Vocaloid had reminded him he had had a time as a human and that was more than some people got.

"Lean against here please." Al couldn't tell which of them had spoken, they had on protective clothing and he hated to think of why they needed that to do this operation or...whatever it was. Al approached the same vertical table he'd seen Ann strapped to. Leaning against it he gasped and fought hard the need to fight back when wires came out, not to hold him down but to prod into his skin. He cringed, it did hurt! What were those things looking for? He cringed again and the world tipped as the table became horizontal and hummed underneath him. "On the count of three you'll go unconscious, you may experience some memory recall, almost like a dream and when you wake it'll be done. Don't be alarmed if the same mechanical process you experienced when waking before or worse happened again - things will become clear once you're fully booted up."

Al pulled a face at that too, already they were treating him like a machine.

"One."

He could feel the wire wiggling in his flesh, even in his head, searching out the mechanical parts to attach to and stimulate. 'Soon I'll be pretty much all machine' he thought, though incorrectly so.

"Two."

The only things really being changed were in his vocal areas and his brain, a bunch of circuits soon to be massively wired to something bigger than he could have imagined. With his new vocal couching too, he was sure to do well. They were excited for it even if he were not. They'd also undress and re-dress him too, a suit already picked out. He'd never remember, but it had elements of his strong-man outfit.

"Three."

Big Al's mind went blank and his body numbed, soon though a memory did surface, one he hadn't thought of as a human in years.


	8. Little Allan's Big PolkaPFXV2

In that instant, Big Al remembered the pain he'd felt at his huge size. He'd always been bigger than the other kids, he'd reached his adult height before he reaches his sixteenth birthday. It was a strange and singular memory that came to him as the PFX workers sliced him open and started to work on parts of his body, opening up his skull and his throat to have their way as the wires wiggled and burrowed into him to keep him unconscious.

Al remembered how he'd made friends with a charming young man with dwarfism, they'd become friends because they were both called Allan, which was around the time he'd started just calling himself Al so people could call them each a different name and they'd know who was wanted. Allan was a lovely man, always smiling and with the most positive of outlooks on the world. They lived in a small village, so everyone knew Allan and everyone liked him. Everyone but one person...Al hadn't believed until that day that one person's dislike would end up causing a whole world of trouble.

"You complain about your height too much." Allan would tell Al. "Tell you what, we'll trade legs, then maybe we'll both me average sized." they'd both laughed at that considerably.

"Did I tell you? I'm thinking of joining the circus..."

Al twitched in his dream-like remembrance (it was little more than a side effect and the memories jumped as they worked on his brain which was now more microchips than grey matter) and the workers stopped for a moment. Sure he was calm, they continued.

The soon-to-be Vocaloid was not entirely aware of what order the memories were supposed to be in, some were only of certain lines of speech, but they were fine memories all the same. He remembered saying goodbye to his friend Allan and started off on the road to a local circus, to see if they had work. He'd failed most of his exams, he remembered, and his parents were very displeased. Had he had parents...? Surely...

Returning back with happy news of employment, Al has spotted a large circle of people crowded around two people fighting. With horror he realized one of the fighters was Allan and without thinking, Al had pushed his way in. He grabbed the bully who was picking on his friend and saw red, beating the every-loving crud out of him before turning to make sure Allan was okay.

Allan has slowly...very slowly opened his eyes. He stared fearfully at Al. "You killed him..."

Al had not killed him, but Allan was afraid of him from that moment on even as the other people celebrated him taking the other man down. He was a notorious bully after all and the story of the fight would live on in the village, it lived on even as Al was changed into a man more circuit than flesh. It was the first time he'd ever felt that he was a monster but not the last.

The memories cut off suddenly and Al felt a great wave of energy shoot into him. Music filled his ears, notes that made no tune, coding that he understood despite it being all 1's and 0's. Al opened his eyes and the cyber netting splayed across his vision again. Words formed on the screen of his eyes and he found himself speaking without wanting to.

_"Vocaloid - version two. Code: PFXV2 - Big Al."_

"Did I sound like that at first too? Sheesh talk about robot..."

That was Ann's voice - Ann! Al's vision cleared and he stepped away from the now vertical table to embrace her. "I...I did it. I'm a Vocaloid."

"That's right sugar, and from now on life is gonna be sweet."


End file.
